Falling Into Place
by Quatre-sama
Summary: Ever wonder what passersby would've thought, during "In the Hand of the Goddess", seeing Jon kissing Squire Alan in the gardens?


Author's Note: After watching great cross-dressing classics like _Mulan_, _Victor/Victoria_¸and _Yentl_, I became intrigued with the scenario of the guy who is attracted to the other guy, though he's never considered himself homosexual before.  In this fic, however, I gave it a twist with a third person (Gary's) narration. J

Disclaimer: Tortall and its inhabitants belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her indirect permission.  Some of the dialogue in this fic comes directly from _In the Hand of the Goddess_—chapters "Winter Lessons" and "The Ordeal."

_Italics_ denote thoughts.

Falling Into Place

Gary followed Alan into the Royal Forest, wondering just what exactly was on the little guy's mind.  They hadn't really hand many meaningful, lengthy conversations since the war—possibly since before that.  Gary suspected that it had something to do with the Ordeal coming up in half a year; but a small part of him remembered a scene he'd kept buried away for a year.

He wondered if the red-headed squire was planning to confess.  "Whatever's on your mind, you may as well say it now and get it over with," he advised after an hour of silence.  Alan wouldn't say anything unless it was dragged it out of him, it seemed.  "It must be pretty important."  _Mithros guide me if he says what I think he will._

Alan, looking nervous to the point of physical illness, wiped the sweat off of his upper lip.  "It is," he frowned somberly.  "Gary, has it—has it ever occurred to you that I might not be the person I _seem_ to be?"

One year before… 

It was the night of Alan's seventeenth birthday.  Gary and Raoul had been spending the evening at another Royal party, watching Jonathan whirl Delia of Eldorne around the ballroom; her whispers and flirtatious laughs were enough to make them green with envy.

Raoul was the first to call it quits that night, as was usual.  "I have to leave for Goldenlake in the morning," he explained with a yawn.  "And these parties are getting tedious."

Gary grinned, slapping his large friend on the back.  "You're beginning to sound like Alan now!  I swear, I've never seen more antisocial people than the two of you!"

Raoul shrugged his impossibly wide shoulders.  "Where is the little guy, anyway?"  They hadn't seen Jonathan's squire for a good while.

Gary laughed.  "He took off.  You know how he gets when Delia's around; I think he has a crush—it's the only explanation for the way he treats Jon."  Gary tugged his mustache thoughtfully.  The prince's squire had a tendency to get testy whenever the pretty Eldorne lady was around, and it was only worse on the nights that Jon escorted her back to her rooms.

Raoul snorted.  "Alan'll never admit it, you know.  He respects Jon too much to move in on his sweetheart."  He looked contemplative for a moment.  "And I think he likes his reputation as a reluctant charmer."  He chuckled and said goodnight to his friend, heading down the hall toward his bedchambers.

Gary stood alone for a while, eying the various beauties.  Delia was lovely, but she could barely hold a candle to Lady Cythera of Elden.  _Yes, _Gary thought with some degree of arrogance, _Lady Cythera will be mine, one way or another._

He made his way to the large, open glass windows separating the ballroom from the terrace and the palace gardens.  Most nights he would see the court ladies strolling about, older generations recapturing their youth, or the occasional palace servant meeting his dearest in a secluded corner.  Gary liked these little romantic displays of affection, for all he tried to hide his softer side.

But there were only two people in the rose garden that night.  He instantly recognized the man on the terrace—it was his cousin, looking more regal and princely than ever.  He was watching the small lady across the garden intently.

The woman was one Gary did not recognize—but there was something eerily familiar about her.  She walked with an unusual lack of grace, staring up at the moon.  Gary wondered if she was perhaps a palace maid, dressing up for a planned rendezvous of some sort.

He was surprised to see Jonathan heading over to a nearby stone bench.  A cloak had been thrown across it; Jon looked at the lady again as he picked it up.  

The small woman walked over and Gary could barely hear the prince's greeting through the open windows.  _Gareth,_ he scolded himself, _this eavesdropping thing of yours can only lead to trouble.  _He was about to move away from the windows when the lady slid the masses of black hair from her head, revealing Squire Alan.  In a dress.

"How did you know it was me, Jonathan?" Alan asked, his voice a little less rough than usual.

Gary awaited Jon's response, wondering why, in Mithros's name, he hadn't been alarmed to see his squire cross-dressing.

"I guessed," the prince said, talking one of Alan's hands.  "And then I saw how you walked and I was sure."

Gary was taken aback by Jon's casual response.  He stared at the two young men, mouth hanging open in shock.  _Were there any signs that Alan was so… strange? _he wondered. _And if he likes to wear dresses and stuff, does that mean he likes men?  _Gary had never personally known any men who'd admitted to liking other men.  He'd heard of such alarming tales from far off places like the Yamanis and the Copper Isles but never anything in the Eastern lands.  

Gary's shock only heightened when he saw his cousin swoop down and swiftly kiss his blushing squire.  From the looks of it, Jon wanted to make a night of it with Alan rather than Delia.  Gary felt flushed and embarrassed when he saw the prince unlacing the purple silk bodice tied tightly around Alan's boyish figure.

_Great Merciful Mother, what's going on here? _Gary muttered, unable to take his eyes from his kissing comrades.  He was relieved to see John lacing the gown back up and Alan shaking with mortification.  _That's right_, Gary thought as he watched them._  Come to your senses, you two.  This won't be good if you're discovered._

He tried not to cringe at the sight of his cousin gazing into the young man's frightened eyes.  

"We belong to each other," Jon was saying, his voice heated.  "Is that silliness?  Sure you've realized all along this had to happen."

With a sigh, Gary silently prayed to Mithros that this was only a phase in Jon's life.  It would only harm the nation if the Conté heir preferred men to women; succession would be in question.  As for Alan, Gary was completely befuddled.  _I always knew he had some kind of deep secret, but he's still the best damned squire in the palace—and I'll protect his secret so he doesn't lose the chance to win his shield._  When he looked out into the garden again, Jon was alone, his face a mixture of frustration and regret.

In the present… 

Gary's mind replayed the following months as Alan stared at him, wide-eyed and waiting for a response.  The pensive knight remembered the way Jon had panicked when Alan fell through the ice; the balls later that year, when Jon ignored every lady present.  Gary had gradually accepted the idea that Jon and Alan had become lovers—he had been thankful that no one else suspected it.

Finally, Gary looked at the tiny young man in beside him and shrugged.  "I know you've had a big secret ever since I first met you," he admitted.  "I always figured you'd tell me what it was, eventually."

Alan took a deep breath.  "I'm a girl," he said frankly.  "My real name is Alanna.  I come from Trebond and Lord Thom really is my twin brother."

Gary, expecting something entirely different, stopped short and stared at the young man.  "That's not funny!"

Alan's serious violet gaze met Gary's sharp brown eyes.  "Of course it's not funny; it's the truth!"

"Where are your breasts?" the big knight demanded.

"I bind them flat with a special corset I wear."

"But when you bathe—" Gary halted mid-sentence and whistled lowly.  "None of us have ever seen you bathe.  Or swim, for that matter."

"That's right," Alan answered evenly.

Gary tugged at his mustache, his mind racing.  _So Jon and Alan aren't gay lovers,_ he thought, at a loss over his own misunderstanding.  But he was still certain that Jon was in love with Alan—no, Alanna—and certainly he knew the truth.  "Who else knows?" he asked softly.

"Jonathan.  George and Mistress Cooper.  Coram, my brother Thom.  The healing woman at Trebond.  Faithful."

Gary was silent for a long moment, trying to let everything fall into place.  Things began to make sense—Alan's tiny size, the way he'd worked so hard to keep up—surely Alanna had felt she had to prove herself among the boys.  Hw was impressed; there hadn't been a female warrior trained in the palace for a hundred years or more.  His uncle and all the other traditional nobles would have fits once she revealed the truth.  "Oh, I can't wait to see their faces!" he whooped with glee, grinning and laughing.

"Anyone in particular?" Alanna asked, looking perplexed.

"Everyone!" Gary gasped, wiping his streaming eyes. "Just—everyone!"

The End 


End file.
